"
"Yes. Ed told me. Now, don't talk about it. Here's some hot coffee."
"Never mind my coat. I'm too tired. You know about Courtney Thane?"
"I only know they're hunting for him. There's a man out in the
kitchen. Is--is it in connection with Rosabel's death?"
"No. Thank you, Auntie. That feels better. I haven't had it off since
morning. Charlie told me about Thane, but I am not sure whether I
can get it straight. He was so excited,--and I was so distressed."
Her voice was low and husky with fatigue and emotion; it was
apparent that she controlled it with difficulty. In her dark eyes
there was a brooding, haunted look. She repeated as best she could
Charlie's rambling, disjointed story.
"And just to think," cried Mrs. Strong at the end, "you let that
beast kiss you and--"
"Oh, don't! Don't!" cried the girl, covering her eyes with her
hands. "I can't bear the thought of it. I wasn't myself. I don't
know what came over--"
"There, there! Don't think about it any more. It's all right now.
And you're not the only woman that's lost her head since God made
Adam, my dear. It's pretty hard not to sometimes. You--"
"Oh, I couldn't,--I COULDN'T have done anything bad. I couldn't--"
"God bless you, of course you couldn't," cried the older woman,
stroking the girl's hair. "Do you think this coffee will keep you
awake?" She poured out a steaming cup and dropped two lumps of
sugar into it.
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